


Payback

by silentid



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Incest, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentid/pseuds/silentid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley and Stanford have a game they play, one that involves payback and lingerie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“No way,” Stan said, his hands balled in the skimpy outfit he had found on his bed. 

He had just gotten home from practice. His large duffel bag was still slung over his shoulder, and sweat stuck his t-shirt to his chest and back.

“I’m not wearing this, Ford,” he continued. He turned around to face his brother who was buried in a textbook at his desk. 

“It’s not really up for negotiation, Stanley,” Stanford replied, never taking his eyes off his book. “You said you would let me tell you what to do for a whole night, if I gave you the answers for the last math test. And this is me telling you to wear that tonight.”

“Sixer, we can’t,” Stan whined. He was desperately trying to find a way out of his predicament. He had known making this kind of promise to his control freak brother would be a bad idea, but he had really needed to do well on that last test. “What if Ma and Pops find out?”

“They’re out all night. All weekend actually,” Ford said, finally turning to look at his brother. “Aunt Helen called and invited them up for the weekend. I convinced them we would be fine here by ourselves.”

Stan gulped as he met his brother’s gaze. There was something hungry in Ford’s eyes and there was nothing to save Stan from it this time. He felt a shiver run through his body, and his cock stir.

“If that takes care of all your concerns, you should go and take a shower now. And get changed,” Ford said when his brother didn’t respond, simply glowering at the outfit Ford had picked out for him.

Stan felt heat creep up his cheeks. He dropped his bag and hurried down the hall to the shower, hoping his brother wouldn’t notice that he was already blushing.

He turned the water on and let it run. Without their father there to shout at him for wasting water he could let it run for a couple of minutes so it could really heat up. While he waited he laid the outfit out on the bathroom counter. It was a skimpy maid’s costume, complete with stockings and high heels. Stan hadn't even known they made heels big enough for his feet, and he was wondering where his brother had had to go to find them. 

As he contemplated how the outfit would look on his body, he reached down and palmed the bulge starting in his jeans. He moaned quietly at the feeling. A knock at the door caused him to jump, and pull his hand away guiltily. 

Stan was greeted by the sight of his twin when he opened the door. 

“I almost forgot, you’ll need this too,” Ford said. He handed Stan a small vibrator. Stan’s whole face turned red as he held the thing. Ford wiggled a small remote. Stan jumped when Ford pressed a button and the toy came to life in his hand. “And Stan, don’t even think about touching yourself while you’re showering and getting dressed. That’s my pleasure tonight.”

Stan stammered as Ford shut the door. He whined as he started stripping off his sweaty clothes. It would be such a relief to just grab his erection and take care of it himself at this point. But Ford would know, and then Stan would really be in for it tonight.

Instead, he got into the shower and let the hot stream relax his sore muscles. He washed rapidly but thoroughly, cleaning sweat and grim from the practice from his skin. He toweled off just as quickly, enough to dry off but not enough to tempt him into touching himself further. 

Once dry he picked up the toy Ford had given him, turning it over and over in his hand. It was black and smooth, smaller than Ford's cock so it shouldn't have been intimidating but Stan had never had anything like it inside of him before. The toy vibrated again, Ford expressing his displeasure at being kept waiting. Stan moaned at the feeling of it in his hands, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have it in all night.

He grabbed some lube tucked in the back of a drawer. He made quick work of prepping himself like he would for a cock before inserting the toy. Stan then hurriedly tossed on the maid’s outfit. The skirt and top went on easily enough but he had to wrestle with the stockings. Looking himself over in the mirror he was rather pleased with the outcome, even if the outfit itself was a little embarrassing.

Finally, he slipped on the high heels, which were strappy things that Stan knew would have his feet aching in moments. He wobbled down the hall, the short walk giving him a chance to renegotiate his balance and get used to the way the vibrator shifted with each step. He pushed open their bedroom door and stood awkwardly by Ford's desk. 

Ford hadn’t left his desk. He still had a textbook out and was taking diligent notes. He didn't even look up when Stan shuffled by his side. 

“So, Sixer what n--” Stan began to say but he was cut off by an electric whine and gentle vibrations right against his prostate. Stan panted and squirmed as he tried to escape from the vibration’s assault. 

“Your job isn’t to talk tonight, Stanley. Your job is to look good and do my chores,” Ford said to his textbooks. Lust shot through Stan at his brother’s no nonsense tone.

“Okay, okay you’ve got it Ford,” Stan panted out, “what do you want me to do first?”

“Our room is a mess, I want you to pick everything up and start a load of laundry,” Ford said. His hand twitched slightly again and the vibrator clicked off. Stan was grateful for the break, he was embarrassingly hard for how little of this game they had played and he didn’t want to make it worse by coming so early.

Stan was tempted to shoot back an ‘And whose fault is that’ since much of the mess was actually Ford’s, but he thought better of it as he watched his brother toy with the small black remote.

Stan moved slowly around the room, the heels made the simple chore more challenging. Ford appeared to be ignoring him in favor of his homework but Stan made sure to put on a show regardless. It wasn’t hard in the skimpy outfit. All he had to do was bend down to retrieve dirty clothes to flash Ford a view up his short skirt. Stan knew it was great view, since his brother had also included some lacy panties that framed Stan’s plump ass.

When Stan had filled an entire basket, he moved back to Ford's side. He had to admit as he looked around their small room that it really did look better. 

"You can take those downstairs and put them in the wash," Ford said, glancing up to see what Stan wanted. He turned in his chair and looked around their small room. "It looks much better. Good job, Stanley."

A thrill of pleasure shot through Stan at the compliment, and dopey grin spread across his face. It almost made up for the nervousness that was pulsing through his veins at the idea of going downstairs dressed like this. He knew his parents were out but there was always a chance they could come home. There was also the heart stopping thought that one of their neighbors might spy him through a window. 

The first thing he noticed when he crept down the stairs was that all the blinds were closed. It was something he should have noticed when he had first come home, it would have given him a huge clue that Ford was planning something. Now though he couldn't help but grin. Ford really did think of everything. With most of his worries assuaged, Stan let himself relax into Ford's game. He did look amazing in the outfit, and while Ford thought he was in charge Stan had a few ideas on how he might change that. 

He hummed happily as he loaded the washing machine. He was so lost in his plotting he completely forgot about Ford’s other present, until a sharp buzz drew him from his thoughts.

He let out a breathy whine, and grabbed onto the washing machine as he wobbled in the heels. His cock jumped at the vibrations. As the sensations stopped, Stan had to concede that Ford just might have the upper hand tonight.

Ford was waiting for him in the living room, feet crossed, lounging on the couch. He was reading a book for their English class that wasn't due until next semester. Stan ground his teeth at his brother’s smug smirk, and the way he twirled the small black remote in his six fingers.

"Just in case you were thinking of trying anything to turn the tables tonight," Ford said, glancing up slyly from his book, "I thought I would let you know that this has a variety of settings."

He clicked a couple of buttons to demonstrate, enjoying the show his brother put on in his attempt to not seem affected. 

"It’s alright, sweetheart, you can let me know how much you like it," Ford said, his voice growing huskier. Stan moaned, fingers tightening in the material of his skirt as he tried not to touch himself.

"Good boy, remembering not to touch yourself," Ford praised as he turned the vibrator off. "I think I'm ready for dinner now. Maybe that pasta dish Ma taught you to make."

Stan nodded and headed for the kitchen. 

"And Stanley, I don't want you to come until I'm fucking you," Ford said nonchalantly as he returned to his book.

Stan whined, gritting his teeth together as he struggled not to come there and then. He was already on the edge and hearing his brother use such uncharacteristically vulgar language was almost too much. As he wobbled in the heels, Ford was up and by his side in an instant, cupping Stan's cheeks and forcing him to look him in the eye. 

"Don't do it Stanley, I told you not to," Ford said, his voice a low growl. 

Stan whimpered as he felt his stomach tightening. He shook his head and tried to look away from Ford.

"Come on Stanley, I know you want to be a good boy for me. I know you can do this. Don't come."

Stan bit his lip, and took in a deep shuddering breath through his nose. Slowly, painfully slowly, he felt the coil in his stomach release, the cresting wave of his orgasm slip away.

He made eye contact with Ford again, giving him a small nod. His brother smirked, and pulled Stan into a filthy kiss that was all tongue and teeth.

"Good boy," Ford said when they broke apart. "I knew you could do it. Now how about that dinner?"

Stan nodded again and started for the kitchen. As he passed him, Ford reached over and gave Stan's ass a quick slap. 

"Ford!" Stan cried out as he jumped from the unexpected hit. The vibrator was jostled by all the sudden movements and sent a jolt of pleasure through Stan. 

"Yes, Stanley?" Ford asked, smirking as he feigned innocence. 

Stan scowled at his brother's smug expression but he knew it wasn't worth kicking up a fuss. Instead, he finally made his way into the kitchen and began pulling out pots and pans. Ford grabbed his book and followed him in, sitting at the table so he could enjoy the view while his brother worked.

Stan wasn't an amazing cook, but it was an activity that he enjoyed sharing with his Ma, even if their father was rather dismissive of him learning such a domestic task. Stan usually brushed their father’s comments off by claiming he was just trying to lighten Ma's load by moving the heavy pots and pans for her. It also helped that Ford seemed to like anything Stan made, no matter how good or bad it turned out. And his brother was always very good at showing his appreciation. 

The meal Ford had requested didn't take very long to make, but Stan made sure to put on a bit of a show while he worked, conscious of his brother's presence. Stan had resigned himself to being at Ford's mercy all night. No one could say that Stanley Pines didn't know when to pay his dues. Plus, he figured if he did a really good job he could start saving up for the next favor he inevitably had to ask his brother for. 

"How’s the book, Sixer?" Stan asked, while he stirred a pot at the stove. 

"Are you actually interested?" Ford replied. When Stan glanced over his shoulder Ford was looking at him in puzzled surprise. 

"Hmm sure, I mean if it can keep your interest while you've got this fantastic piece of tail to look at, it must be kind of interesting," Stan said, he punctuated his sentence with a couple of wiggles of his hips.

Ford rolled his eyes and didn't even try to hide when he reached for the black remote. He flicked it on and smirked when Stan jumped and let out a quiet yelp.

"Fooord," Stan moaned. His knees quivered as he tried to ride out the sensations and not let the pot on the stove boil over. "Please, Ford, please."

"Please what, Stan?"

"I'm gonna come," he whined.

"No, you are not," Ford said. His tone didn't leave any room for negotiation. 

Stan pouted, his cock throbbed and it was all he could to not rub his thick thighs together for a little bit of friction. 

"Pl-please, tell me about the book Ford. I didn't mean to tease ya," Stan tried again, his words coming between breathy whines. 

Ford nodded, pleased with this answer. He clicked the remote again, letting Stan sag against the stove as the vibrations stopped. 

"It’s a pretty good book actually," Ford said, as if nothing had just happened. "You might enjoy it if you would read it. It’s got treasure and pirates."

"Any babes?" Stan asked while he plated the food.

"I don't understand what your obsession with babes is," Ford replied, frowning as he watched Stan.

"They're nice to look at," Stan said, oblivious to Ford's darkening mood.

"I don't see why you need to be looking," Ford said. His frown deepened as possessiveness began to boil in his stomach. He knew these feelings were wrong but he couldn't help them whenever he heard Stan talking like this. Someday, Stan would grow out of this sick game they played, find a nice girl and settle down. Leaving Ford all alone.

"Come on, Sixer you honestly can't tell me that you don't look at the girls at school and just wonder sometimes," Stan said. 

"I don't," Ford said, in a very quiet voice.

Stan finally noticed the strange shift in his brother's demeanor as he set their plates on the table. 

"Oh Ford, don't tell me you're jealous?" Stan said, a strange thrill racing through his stomach. He knew what teasing Ford would get him, but he couldn't help but throw caution to the wind as giddiness swept over him. "Don't worry bro, you're the only babe for me."

Ford growled and tugged his brother into his lap, pulling Stan close enough for a searing kiss. Ford tried to press all his fears and anxieties into that kiss. He hoped that Stan would understand, really truly understand for once.

"Hmm, I think I like it when you're jealous," Stan said in a husky voice when they broke apart. Ford rolled his eyes. Trust Stan to side step all the emotional turmoil and think it was sexy.

Ford rearranged Stan on his lap so that they would both be comfortable. He wanted to forget about his thoughts as easily as Stan did, and go back to enjoying his evening.

He dipped two fingers into the sauce on his plate, and brought them to Stan's lips. 

Ford couldn't hold back his groan as his brother greedily licked the sauce from his fingers. There was a hunger in Stan's eyes that Ford knew wasn't for the food but was for him. His heart skipped a beat at that look. It wasn't fair. Stan had ruined him. There couldn't possibly be a girl out there who would look at him like that, who would look at his hands the way Stan did.

With a deep growl Ford pulled his fingers from Stan's mouth, catching the whine that Stan made at the loss with a brutal kiss. He grabbed Stan's hips harshly and stood up. Normally he couldn't carry Stan and Stan knew it, his legs wrapped tightly around Ford's waist and hands scrabbled for his shoulders. But Ford wasn't taking them far, all he did was push the plates further down the table and lay his brother forcefully where they had been.

Stan grunted as his back hit the table. He pulled Ford down for a kiss that Ford only let last for a couple of seconds. Then he was nipping and sucking his way down Stan's neck. Stan dug his heel clad feet into Ford's thighs to encourage him, but at the feeling Ford reeled back, pulling away from Stan.

"Ford, what-- " Stan began, before Ford cradled his right foot in his hand. 

Carefully Ford removed the heel, pressing kisses to Stan's foot and ankle. His gentleness was at odds with his earlier aggressive actions. He repeated the gesture with Stan's other foot and both shoes fell to the floor with a clatter. Ford returned to looking over Stan. 

"God, Stanley, you look so good like this," Ford said, palming his erection with a groan. "Wearing what I tell you, cooking dinner, fuck."

"Ford, please," Stan whimpered, clawing at any part of his brother he could reach.

Ford pinned Stan's hands to the table.

"Shh, don't worry Stanley, I've got you. I know what you need. I'll take care of you."

Ford let go of Stan's hands but Stan didn't move them, understanding his brother's unspoken command. With one quick motion, Ford pulled Stan's skirt and panties down to his thighs, allowing his erection to spring free. 

Stan moaned at the feeling of cool air on his straining cock. Ford tugged on the skirt and Stan wiggled a little to help the clothes come all the way off. Soon they were joining the heels in a pile on the floor.

Ford’s breath caught at the sight of his brother’s weeping erection and puckered entrance. All twelve fingers danced along Stan's thick thighs, drawing whimpers and gasps from him. Ford circled Stan's rim where it was stretched around the base of the vibrator. He briefly considered hunting for the remote but one look at Stan's contorted expression told him his brother wouldn't last. 

Instead he pulled the toy free, drawing it out in an agonizingly slow pace. He enjoyed the way Stan writhed from the sensation. His brother was trying so hard to follow his instructions and it made him all the more beautiful. 

Finally, the toy slipped free, and Ford quickly replaced the emptiness with two of his fingers. Stan clenched down around them, silently begging Ford for more. 

Ford considered himself to be a conscientious brother and so he happily obliged. He pulled a small bottle of lube from his pocket and worked Stan up to a third finger and then a fourth. As he teased Stan's rim with the fifth finger and his thumb a wicked idea came to him.

"I am going to fist you," Ford stated as he watched his fingers fuck in and out of Stan. 

Stan cried out, his cock jumping at the thought. Ford reached up quickly and clamped his other hand around the base of Stan's cock acting as a makeshift cock ring. Stan sobbed as he rocked against the feeling of Ford’s fingers in his ass and around his cock.

"Not now," Ford continued, seemingly unmoved by Stan's struggles below him. "You're too stimulated, you couldn't help but orgasm. And I've already told you that won’t happen unless my cock is in you. But later. We do have the whole weekend."

"Stanford, please," Stan begged between breathless pants. He wasn't sure if he was begging to be fisted or if he was begging to be fucked, but he knew he needed more and he needed it now.

Ford seemed to understand his desperation, and drew his fingers out. Stan whined at the loss, but he wasn't empty for long. Ford lined his cock up and pushed in. Stan mewled at the burning sensation Ford's girth caused even as well prepped as he was.

Ford stilled for a moment, allowing them both to adjust, as he reveled in his brother's tight heat. Then he slowly pulled out, inch by agonizing inch. He rocked them together gently, until Stan was again reduced to incoherent sobs, then Ford slammed forward, setting a brutal pace.

Stan's back rubbed against the table and it was all he could do to cling to Ford has his brother fucked him. He cried out when Ford got the angle just right and struck his prostrate with each thrust. 

Ford snarled as he fucked into Stan, certain that there was no one alive who would feel as good as this. Stan babbled a litany of curses and pleas that trailed off when Ford's fingers went from wrapped tightly around the base of his cock to lazily stroking the throbbing member. 

“Ford, please. Please, F-Ford I need to…” Stan begged.

“You’re begging to come?” Ford asked, his pace not slowing for a second. “You’re such as good boy, you know that? Such a good boy.”

“Ford, please.”

“Do it, Stan, come for me,” Ford said, his eyes locked on Stan’s face as it twisted in pleasure.

A wave of pleasure crested through Stan, his whole body tensing with his orgasm. He cried out as he spilled over Ford’s hand and the space between them. 

Ford continue to thrust but didn't last long as Stan's muscles clenched around him. He came with a shout muffled in his brother’s neck, muscles trembling from the force of it.

They laid together for a while on the table, a sweaty, panting mess. Stan recovered first and brought his hands to Ford's hair and quietly carded through his sweaty locks while Ford caught his breath. 

Eventually Ford couldn’t continue to hide in his brother’s embrace, even if his smell was enticing enough for Ford to want to stay pressed against him forever. He stood up with a groan, stepping back so his softening cock could slip free. He pulled a face at the mess the two of them had made.

Stan laughed at his expression, as he slid off the table. He leaned forward and kissed Ford.

“What’s wrong, Poindexter? Forget how messy sex gets?” Stan asked. Although he did get his own grimace when he felt Ford’s cum trickle down his thigh.

“I had so many plans for tonight,” Ford said. Stan’s heart couldn’t help but melt at the pout that accompanied this statement. Ford tugged at the top of Stan’s outfit that had gotten splattered with some of Stan’s cum. “I hope you can get this clean, I was hoping we could use it more than just tonight.”

“I’m just upset you didn’t have time to eat the food I made for ya, before you had to fuck me on the table,” Stan said. 

Ford frowned as he glanced at the other end of the table where their plates still sat, untouched. 

“Hmmm, well I guess we could skip to the movie I picked out and eat dinner in the living room,” Ford said, his expression turning calculating. 

“Could, could we cuddle?” Stan asked, his cheeks heated with embarrassment at his request. 

“As long as you don’t mind only wearing the panties,” Ford replied, leaning down to grab the panties off the floor and dangle them in front of Stan . He grinned, pleased with this new plan.

Stan’s blush got worse, and a thrill of excitement raced through him at that idea, his spent cock struggling valiantly to express its own interest. He nodded and quickly grabbed the panties from Ford, equally happy with the idea.

“Okay, go and get cleaned up. Move the clothes in the washing machine to the dryer so you can wash everything that just got dirty,” Ford said. He tugged off his own shirt that had a few incriminating stains on it. “And I’ll warm the food back up and get the movie setup.”

“Sounds good, Sixer,” Stan said as he collected up their clothes, the vibrator, and heels on his way to the laundry room.

Ford cleaned himself up and tucked their plates into the oven, before running upstairs to switch into sweat pants and an old t-shirt. 

When Stan had the laundry sorted and had washed himself with a damp cloth, he headed for the living room. Walking through the house in only lacey panties sent an illicit thrill through him even if he knew no one could see him. Ford was curled up on the sofa with a soft blanket and a single heaping plate of food sitting on the table next to him. Noticing Stan he patted the cushion next to him, grinning as he took in his brother in all his gloriousness. 

Stan’s blush returned as he made his way quickly to Ford’s side, ducking underneath blanket and pressing up against his twin. Ford passed him the plate of food and wrapped an arm around his shoulder making sure there was no room between them. 

“So what’s the flick about?” Stan asked. 

Ford happily explained the premise of the sci-fi movie he had picked, along with the scientific inaccuracies. As Stan listened, he twirled the fork through the pasta, bringing a big bite to his mouth. He practically groaned as he ate the food. It had been awhile since he had eaten, and between practice and Ford’s game he was absolutely famished.

The commercials ended, the title sequence starting up, but Ford was still talking. To shut him up, Stan pushed the next forkful of food into Ford’s mouth. Laughing at his twin’s surprised expression. He leaned over and kissed the side of Ford’s lips, licking off the pasta sauce that had gotten on his face.

Both brothers laughed at this and snuggled closer together. Stan alternated between feeding himself and his twin, happy to be taking care of Ford and sharing the evening with him sans school work. Ford just enjoyed the feeling of Stan’s soft skin pressed against him, completely uncovered for his wandering hands to explore under the blanket. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ford huffed with irritation as he dug through his drawers. He had thought for certain that he had brought that particular sweater on the Stan-o-War II with him, but now rooting through his small storage cabinet he couldn't for the life of him find it. 

There was one other place it could be...

With a surreptitious glance around the cabin to make sure he was alone, Stanford strode quickly across the small space to his brother's drawers.

They didn't often share clothes because it brought up memories they both would rather avoid. But in such a small space it was easy for things to get mixed up.

Stan wouldn't mind Ford taking a quick peek through his clothes, especially if he never found out. They were just clothes anyway, what could he possibly find?

Stanford cursed his own thoughts for jinxing him as he stared down at the contents of the first drawer he had opened.

Laid out on top of Stan's other clothes was an outfit, if there was even enough fabric to call it that, that would even put what they were calling Halloween costumes these days to shame. The cut and design were reminiscent of a blue and white sailor’s uniform, but someone wearing it would never pass muster. 

Ford reached for the pleated skirt, wondering if it would feel anything like it looked.

"Whatcha up to, Sixer?"

Ford’s heart leapt at his brother’s questions. He would never admit to the undignified squeak that escaped his lips as he quickly spun to face Stan.

"Ah uhm nothing, Stan. I was merely looking for one of my sweaters," Ford said, his face turning an interesting shade of red. He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened to his full height. That act, which he hoped made him look less suspicious, merely cemented his resemblance to a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"Huh-uh, and why are you lookin’ for your clothes in my drawer?" Stan asked. He was struggling to stifle a chuckle at his twin's expression.

Ford's blush worsened and he stammered trying to come up with an excuse. Finally he decided to move the blame off himself.

"What is this, Stanley?" Ford all but shouted, spinning around and pointing accusingly at the offending article.

Stan ambled over and wrapped his arms around his brother's chest, snuggling tight against his back. He rested his chin on Ford's shoulder so he could get a look at his drawer.

"Oh you know, just a little something I picked up the last time we were in port," Stan said with a shrug. "I was remembering some of that kinky shit you loved when we were kids. Thought I might surprise you with it."

Ford spluttered again. Thoughts of Stan visiting the necessary store and thinking about him while he bought the outfit chased the words from his mouth. 

"You went to an adult shop, Stanley? What did I tell you about staying out of trouble?" Ford finally settled on, his tone askance. 

Stan nipped at Ford's shoulder to break the tirade that was starting to build up.

"Ow, Stanley!"

"Cool it, Poindexter. I know you sure as hell ain't Ma and I didn't break your dumb rules by goin’ there," Stan said. Ford's one condition about their adventuring was that Stan stayed out of trouble with any law enforcements, on land or at sea. 

Ford deflated a bit at this, since Stan was right, but he couldn’t get the idea of his brother wandering through an adult shop and smuggling this back onboard without him noticing out of his head. 

“Well, what were you planning on doing with it?” Ford asked, leaning back into Stan’s warmth. The casual intimacy that they had reforged between them during their time on the small boat was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. 

“Hmmm, dunno. I was probably gonna wear it for you at some point. Make it a surprise or somethin,” Stan said with a shrug. 

“I could wear it,” Ford said his cheeks heating with a blush.

“What?” Stan squawked. He pulled back and spun Ford around so he could get a look at his brother’s face.

Ford straightened up under Stan’s scrutiny, hands folding behind his back again. “I mean, if you wanted. You mentioned the games we used to play, and if I remember correctly outfits like this were generally payment for something,” Ford said. His expression grew dark as guilt bubbled up. “I think there are a number of things I owe you for.”

“Uh well, I’m not gonna turn you down on that offer, Sixer,” Stan said as he gave Ford a searching look, “but you know it’s alright. You don’t have to make anything up to me. You said thank you already, that’s enough for me.”

“No Stanley, it’s not. But it's also not like that. I want to do this for you,” Ford insisted, even as he hung his head as the feelings of shame got worse.

"Alright, Ford. I know you’re lying but if it’ll make you feel better then we can do it,” Stan said, after giving Ford another searching look. He drew his brother in for a deep kiss, trying to express everything he couldn’t in words with that simple connection.

When they broke apart Stan sauntered across the small cabin to dig through his brother’s things. Ford was left contemplating Stan’s words while his fingers trailed over his lips. With a pleased cry Stan unearthed the sweater Ford had been searching for from under a pile of Ford’s clutter.

Returning to Ford’s side Stan pressed the sweater into Ford’s hands.

“Here you go, bro,” Stan said, leaning in for another kiss. He headed out of the cabin after that, calling back to his brother as he went. “Lotta work to do today, but I expect you to be wearing that and making me dinner once we’re anchored tonight.”

Ford’s blush grew as he took in his brother’s words, glancing at the outfit. With a shake of his head he changed his sweater and followed Stan up to the deck.

The day flew by, or at least that's the way it felt to Ford. The normally important tasks of keeping the ship on track and afloat barely took up half his brain power leaving the other half free to dwell on Stanley’s plans for the evening. 

They made it to the cove Ford had found for them to anchor in for the night and while Stan finished cleaning up on deck Ford went down to prepare. 

He plucked the outfit from Stan’s draw and ducked into their small bathroom. He was surprised how nervous and self-conscious he felt about the whole thing. He took a quick shower and pulled on the clothes. 

A brief glance in the mirror had Ford cringing. Clothes like this weren't meant for people like him. He was too old first of all, his skin sagging and wrinkled. And secondly he was too scarred, body damaged so badly that the skimpy outfit couldn't hide a thing, not like his long sleeves and sweaters did. 

For a moment he allowed the fear from his own self-loathing to convince him to give up on the crazy idea. His hands were already moving to undo the outfit when he paused, head cocked as he listened to Stan thump around on the deck. His brother had often worn things like this for Ford, even picked this particular outfit out. Stan would like it no matter what, Stan would like Ford no matter what. And anyways if his brother thought he could pull this ridiculous thing off at their age then god damn it Ford could too.

With this new resolve Ford headed for the galley, shivering slightly as he adjusted to the increased exposure even in the warm cabin. He decided on something simple, pulling pasta and fresh fish from storage. To make dinner a little extra special he dug out a can of peaches and one of the small containers of ice cream they had brought along. 

The routine of cooking settled the rest of Ford's nerves and he didn't even look up from cleaning the fish when the door opened letting a gust of salty wind and his twin into the cabin. Stan stomped down the small stairs, shucking clothes as he went. By the time he made it to the kitchen he was down to a t-shirt, jeans, and his red beanie. 

He wrapped Ford up in a big hug from behind, burying his frigid nose in the warm crook of Ford's neck. Ford let out an undignified yelp, and while his grip tightened on the knife he held he no longer reacted with the same sort of panic he had fresh out of the portal. Time and close, close proximity had acclimatized him to Stanley's antics.

"Hmmm, looks good," Stan murmured against his neck. Ford’s flesh prickled at the warm gusts, goosebumps rippling down his back.

"It’s just fish," Ford replied, squirming so he could continue to work. "Same thing we had last night."

"Not what I was talkin' about, Sixer," Stan said, pulling back. The tips of Ford's ears burned as he was spun round and could see Stan's lascivious grin.

"Yes, well dinner isn't going to cook its self," Ford said stiffly. He turned back to the counter, trying to ignore his brother's appreciative hum. But he couldn't help but jump and let out a squeak when Stan groped at the pleated skirt and his ass beneath.

"Of course," Stan said feigning innocence as he slid into the bench at their small table. Chuckling he continued. "I'll just enjoy the view while you work."

The rest of dinner prep happened in companionable silence. Stan thumbed through Ford's latest note and navigation calculations while Ford worked. The only trouble was Ford's over active brain was whirring the whole time. Dragging his earlier quashed self-doubt to the surface by the time he was putting plates together he was certain his brother was making fun of how ridiculous Ford looked with his earlier comments. 

He was nearly rigid when he set the plates on the table. Stan murmured appreciatively, giving Ford a mindless compliment while tugging him down for a kiss. Ford barely moved. He reeled back before their lips could touch. 

"What the heck, Stanford? What's gotten into you?" Stan asked, genuine puzzlement marred his face. The expression only furthered Ford's ire. Not only was Stan making fun he was going to try and mess with him as well. "Are you alright?"

"No I am not. And don't play innocent, Stan," Ford barked, straightening to his full height. He managed to look passably intimidating despite the skimpy sailor’s costume. "I know I look ridiculous you don’t have to patronize me. I'm going to go change."

With that he turned sharply and headed stiffly for the back of the cabin and their bunks. 

"Wow, wow Ford slow down," Stan called standing to tug Ford back towards him. “Hey if you're uncomfortable you should change out of that thing. But I'm not teasin' you when I say you look really good. I love you, in whatever you wear. But knowin' you're wearin' somethin' like that for me, that's incredibly sexy."

Ford stared at Stan, searching his face for anything beyond the earnestness with which he conveyed his words. The self-righteous bubble Ford was riding popped and he felt shame rise to take its place. He had told himself earlier that the fears plaguing him were ridiculous, Stan would love him no matter what. And here he was doubting his brother again, when all Stan was trying to do was make him feel loved.

With a whine he slumped forward burying himself in Stan's embrace. Without a thought Stan's arms came up wrapping Ford securely in a protective circle. Hugging his twin was something that for a long time Ford couldn't admit to missing. Stan was just the right amount of soft overlying firm muscles, making the hug comfortable and safe at the same time. 

Ford would have been content to let that hug go on for the rest of the night but his musings on his brother's hugs were rudely interrupted by Stan's wandering hands.

"Stanley," he yelped as he felt those large calloused hands slide under his skirt. 

Stan chuckled, mouthing kisses along Ford's collarbone. Rather than moving his hands he grabbed a handful of Ford's ass and used it to tug his brother tighter against him. Ford’s blush returned as he felt the unmistakable firmness of Stan's erection pressing against his hip. 

"Sorry, Sixer, you seemed like you were doing better I figured we could get back to the main course."

"I was enjoying that hug," Ford replied petulantly. "But I suppose."

As he said this his hands trailed down Stan's broad back and kneaded at the muscles of his twin’s back. He groaned appreciatively at what he found there. Stan was a perfect mix of soft and hard even at their age, and living and working aboard a ship had only improved on that physique. 

"Good," Stan said pulling away and heading back to the table. "I'm starving and this looks good. We should eat before it gets cold."

Ford was left spluttering and off kilter. 

"Wha--," he tried.

"C'mon, Sixer, foods not gonna eat itself," Stan parroted back. A smirk danced along his lips and Ford’s brow furrowed. Stan quickly headed off a lecture by patting his lap and encouraging his brother to join him. 

Ford still had his doubts but after Stan let out a lewd moan as he ate a bite of pasta and fish it was all he could do to scramble into the small booth and his brother's lap. He stole the fork and moaned his own appreciation as he brought the next bite to Stan's lips. 

Stan watched him carefully, knowing exactly how to swirl his tongue around the fork as it slipped from his lips to drive Ford crazy. 

Ford wasn't certain he was going to last through the meal, but as soon as it started it seemed as if he was scraping the last bite off the plate. Stan insisted they take turns eating off the plate, even though Ford would have happily fed Stan every bite. 

Ford pressed forward to kiss Stan, threading his hands into Stan's grey hair.

Stan deepened the kiss for a moment, before pulling away and pushing Ford out of the booth. Ford made a confused protesting noise as he was pushed, hands sliding out of Stan's hair. He perked up though when Stan gave him another push in the direction of their bunks. 

"I got some desert out for tonight if you want to eat that first," Ford said. He wanted to move things to the bedroom but the idea of feeding Stan the ice cream and peaches was appealing enough to hold off.

Stan chuckled as he stretched out on the bench making no move to follow Ford. 

"Hmm sounds good, Sixer. Maybe we'll have that when you're done."

"When I'm done?" Ford asked. Stan smiled at the furrow in his brother's brow. He was so often the one wearing that expression, it was nice to turn the tables once and awhile. 

"Yeah, I seem to remember havin' to do a lot of chores when we played this game," Stan said. "Lotta pointless stuff so you could watch me squirm. Don't think I'm gonna miss that opportunity." 

"That's not... it wasn't like... you're remembering those events wrong," Ford sputtered. 

"Uh-huh," Stan said as he returned to the nautical charts. "My memory isn’t bad enough to remember that there are a lot of clothes on the floor of the cabin and you've been sayin' you'll clean your work bench for a week."

Stan's grin grew as he watched Ford pout from the corner of his eye. His twin opened his mouth to say something but Stan beat him to it.

"Gettin' a little big for your boots there bro. Thought you were paying me back, Ford."

Ford's mouth shuts with a click, his expression shutting down. Stan felt a momentary pang of guilt for phrasing it like that. He didn't want to guilt Ford into anything he didn't want to. 

But before Stan could tell Ford this, his brother was nodding his head. 

"You're right, Stan. I got carried away," Ford said his expression chagrined. He glanced back at Stan a sly look in his eyes. "It’s ice cream though, I figured you wouldn't want to wait for that.

Stan appreciated what his brother was trying to do and he didn't mind playing along.

"Hmm that does sound good. How about you bring me a bowl of it?"

Ford grinned triumphantly, sauntering into the kitchen.

He brought the bowl back and was practically back in Stan's lap when his brother snagged the bowl and pushed him away. Stan ate a spoonful, licking the spoon lewdly while Ford watched. 

"Hmm good choice, Sixer. This is really good," Stan said, smirking. Ford whined low in his throat. "You know if you got your chores done you could join me."

Ford turned on his heel, not needing to be told twice.

"Do it right," Stan called as he listened to Ford's frantic cleaning. "No phonin' it in, ya hear."

It didn't take long for Ford to return to the main cabin and his work bench. With a couple of sweeps he had the top looking semi presentable. Stan tsked from where he had looked up from their charts, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose.

"Slow down, Sixer, let me enjoy the show," he said after pulling the spoon from his lips with a particularly wet pop.

Ford couldn't help a groan from escaping as he glanced back at Stan. He sorted through the heap he had just created at a slightly less break neck speed. Occasionally Stan had suggestions for techniques he should use, they generally involved Ford bending over so he flashed Stan. Ford made sure Stan felt like he was getting his money’s worth. 

Finally, after what Ford was certain had been a century the desk was cleaned to Stan's standards. Ford nearly leapt back into Stan's lap, even as his brother started protesting. 

"Easy there, Ford. I've got some more chores that need doin'."

"No," Ford said petulantly, snagging the bowl off the table and stopping Stan's mouth with another spoonful of ice cream and fruit. 

Stan frowned at Ford's forceful actions. He didn't mind moving things a long but Ford was forgetting who was supposed to be in charge tonight. A wicked grin lit up his face as he pulled the spoon from his mouth and Ford's hand.

"Alright, I can see when I'm beat. Let’s take this to the bedroom."

Ford slid out of the booth with a triumphant grin. He headed for the bunks so focused on getting his goal he didn't notice Stan bringing the bowl of desert along with him.

Stan set the bowl on a small table and pushed his brother on to his bunk. A dark chuckle rippled through his chest as he took in the sight below him. Ford's eyes were blown wide and his outfit showed off exactly what his fit body had to offer.

Ford wrapped his arms around Stan's neck and tried to tug him down for a kiss. When that didn't work, he wrapped his legs around Stan's waist and tugged harder.

Stan didn't budge though, instead he disentangled his brother and ran his large palms along Ford's side. Rucking the top up he exposed Ford's chest, pressing feather light kisses to the scarring he found there. Ford squirmed under the attention, trying to urge Stan on. 

Stan laved his tongue over Ford's nipples, kissing a sucking at the rosy buds. Ford groaned pressing up into the sensation. He whined when Stan pulled away and the cool air on his wet skinned caused it to pebble. 

But that was nothing compared to the next sensation. He howled as Stan put something freezing cold on his right nipple. His back bowed as he tried to get more of the feeling and less at the same time. He made up his mind though when Stan leaned back down and licked and sucked at the cold ice cream he had spooned out. Ford watched him through hooded eyes as he continued to eat the sweet treat off Ford's torso. 

Stan grinned at him licking the white ice cream off his lips. 

“Since somebody was impatient, I figured I would just have to enjoy my desert in bed,” Stan said. He languidly slid up Ford's body before catching his twin's lips in a heated kiss.

Ford groaned at the taste of vanilla on Stan's lips. He licked into his mouth chasing the taste deeper into Stan’s mouth. 

He bucked widely when Stan reached up and under the pleated skirt and wrapped a calloused palm around Ford's erection. He hissed at the friction of Stan’s bare hand but Stan quickly remedied that with a haphazard search along the side of the bed. He fumbled with the bottle of lube he found there, opening it awkwardly with one hand and drizzling it onto his other. Stan caught the whimpers and mewls that fell from his twin’s lips with frantic kisses as his strokes found an easy rhythm. 

They broke apart both panting heavily. Their glasses had fogged and Ford’s sat crookedly on his nose. Stan pulled away, reaching down to fumble with his belt and fly. 

"Don't you dare fucking stop," Ford snarled, still thrusting into Stan's hand. Stan cursed at his jeans which he couldn't quite get off with one hand. 

"Yeesh, somebody is bossy," Stan growled in return. He settled back onto Ford's legs before letting go of his brother's cock and releasing his own.

Ford snarled at the loss, reaching up to pull Stan back but unable to get any real leverage with Stan pinning him as he was. 

Stan stroked his own cock a couple of times relishing the relief it brought. He enjoyed Ford's struggle more than he probably should.

"Hands behind your head Ford or I'll have to use some of those new knots I learned to keep 'em there."

Ford let out a string of sounds Stan couldn't understand, but nothing said with that kind of fervor and vehemence could be anything but cursing. He searched Stan's face to see how serious he was before slowing putting his hands above his head. He looped his fingers gently around his wrists. Ford then wiggled his hips trying to entice his brother despite their positions.

Stan ignored him though, continuing to casually stroke his erection. He gazed down at his brother’s sweaty, heaving body. Stan bite his lip as he twisted his wrist just so and swiped his thumb over the head of his cock. As his pace picked up Stan tugged at Ford’s skirt, managing to get it down around his knees. Stan’s head bowed as he felt heat building in him, with a couple more pumps he came with cry spilling all over his brother.

Panting, Stan surveyed his handiwork. Cum splattered Ford’s lower half and had even managed to make it up onto his chest. Ford had turned his head away, but a couple of drops were on his chin.

Stan let out a pleased groan, slumping forward as his orgasm left warm fuzzy tingles running through his whole body. He licked the drops off Ford’s chin, catching his brother’s lips for a kiss when he was done.

“Oops,” Stan said as he pulled just far enough away to look into Ford’s eyes. “Looks like I made a bit of a mess.”

Ford groaned at the cheesy line, he opened his mouth to respond but his words were stolen as Stan worked his way down Ford’s chest licking and sucking anywhere his cum had gotten. He panted as he watched Stan lick a very different white fluid from his lips. Watching Stan eat ice cream was going to be a very different experience after this. 

Finally, Stan made his way to Ford’s crotch. He continued to clean his brother’s skin but now he began to wander. Kisses were pressed to the hollows of his hips and gentle nips were applied to his inner thighs but Stan avoided Ford’s straining erection. It was driving Ford insane, he needed Stan to touch him. 

Finally, with a smirk Stan pressed a feather light kiss to the head of Ford’s cock. Ford couldn’t hold back anymore his quiet pants and moans became a strained sob.

“Stanley, stop teasing already,” he wailed. His hips thrust up chasing the heat of his brother’s mouth, but Stan easily dodged him large hands settling on his hips to keep Ford from moving.

Stan chuckled his breath gusting warmly over Ford’s erection, causing him to sob and squirm harder.

“You’re bein’ bossy again, Sixer,” Stan said, drawing further away from Ford. “Maybe we’ll just have to be done for the night.”

“No!” Ford shouted. His hands, still above his head, twisted and tore at the pillow case. “P-Please, Stan, don’t stop, please. I-I nee—“

He trailed off, his face turning a truly bright red. Stan pressed a kiss to Ford’s hip.

“What was that, Sixer? Didn’t quite catch what you were begging for there?” Stan asked as he touched and teased Ford’s legs with tongue and fingers. 

“Please, Stanley, please. I need you to blow me. Please. I need to come,” Ford panted. His hands clenched together, knuckles turning white. “Lee, please.”

“Of course, Sixer. Anything for you, bro,” Stan said before taking Ford’s cock deep into his mouth. 

Ford cried out as Stan hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard. It barely took any time at all before Ford felt his orgasm building and crashing through him. He was slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t lasted longer and he was definitely frustrated that he hadn’t been able to enjoy his brother’s talented mouth longer. But these thoughts were soon lost to the waves of pleasure Stan milked out of him.

Ford collapsed into a heap as he came down from his high. His heart pounded in his ears and he didn’t even move as Stan tugged the rest of his clothes off and gently cleaned him off with a wet rag. 

“No,” he whined as Stan moved away, taking his heat with him. Stan laughed while plucking Ford’s crooked glasses from his face putting them on the table. He moved around the small space picking up various items and returning them to their rightful places. 

“Hold your horses, I’m trying to make sure all your hard work doesn’t go to waste.”

Ford sighed but was mollified when Stan tossed a blanket over his naked form. Ford burrowed his way into its warmth. He was dozing by the time Stan returned from the main cabin. Ford protested sleepily as Stan tugged the blanket back and cold air crept in but easily snuggled back into Stan’s body as Stan bundled him close. 

Despite knowing, they would wake up stiff and sore, they fell asleep like that lulled to sleep by the rocking and the waves and the reassuring nearness of each other’s heartbeats.


End file.
